


Complicated

by fell_on_black_days



Series: Yvander Trevelyan and CO. [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-01 05:26:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8610508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fell_on_black_days/pseuds/fell_on_black_days
Summary: When Revan Surana was transferred to the Ostwick Circle, she left behind most of her life. After the blight and the mage rebellion she struggles to reconcile past losses and face the man she once loved.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first long fic so please be gentle. Constructive criticism is appreciated!

Revan Surana was never the type to do any harm. Her mother had taught her to respect life in all its forms and to appreciate the beauty in nature. Her childhood in Lothering with her mother, however, was cut short when she was eight. She had been playing tag outside the chantry early one morning with another elven girl from the village when her friend slipped on dew-covered grass. At first, Revan thought it part of the game, something that her friend would brush off with her usual alacrity before resuming the chase, but when Revan turned to look back at her playmate, she noticed the girl was still sitting in the dirt and appeared to be in a large amount of pain.

“What’s wrong Kayla?” she asked as she darted over. Her friend had tears welling in her large brown eyes. It was then that Revan noticed a large, deep cut on Kayla’s hand. Revan was immediately worried for her dear friend and, in a panic, did something unthinkable. She used magic. Everything happened quickly after that.

In less than a week Revan found herself ripped from her mother’s grasp, carted away by scary human men, and packed away in the Ferelden Circle without much fanfare and with little explanation. As the Templars escorted her into the tower foyer, she was greeted by an elderly human woman.

Revan’s eyes darted around the room, unsettled and somewhat afraid until the woman spoke, “Hello little one, my name is Wynne. Would you mind telling me yours?”

The girl was unsure of her situation but this woman’s gaze was confident, warm, almost nurturing, so she mustered up her courage and spoke, “My name is Revan, miss.”

Wynne smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling, “Well that is quite the pretty name, Revan. Welcome to the circle.”

 

* * *

 

 

Revan let out an uncharacteristically loud curse as she woke. The last thing she could remember was rejecting the demon in the Fade as part of her Harrowing and she still wasn’t sure if she had truly survived the ordeal.

“Stay calm! You’re alright, I swear!” someone shouted from the corner of her bed. She snapped her eyes in the direction of the familiar voice, finally noticing her longtime friend, Solona Amell.

She gathered her wits and started to take in her surroundings. She was in the apprentice dormitory, still dressed in her robes from the night before. Letting out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding she whimpered, “Is it over?”

Solona, used to Revan’s timid nature, ignored the rest of the women in the room and touched her head to her friend’s. “Your name is Revan Surana, you are in the Ferelden circle, and you just passed your Harrowing. You will not be made tranquil and you are going to be okay.”

The tension drained from Revan’s body, allowing her to slump into Solona’s arms. After waiting several minutes she detached herself from her friend and put her feet on the cold stone floor.

“Irving said he wanted to see you as soon as you woke up, Rev. Do you think you can go right now?”

Revan had been prone to panic attacks since she was young, a result of coming to the circle during her childhood. Solona was the first friend she had made on arrival and the two girls had been close since. While Revan was timid, Solona was vibrant and protective of the elven girl and had helped her through her attacks since they were children. Revan knew that lying to Solona never worked and would only result in her friend worrying about her safety, so she thought carefully about her emotional state before replying. “I think I can manage. At least long enough to get upstairs.”

Solona looked the elven woman over and, satisfied by the lack of tension in Revan’s shoulders, released her friend. “Take your time alright? I’m sure Irving can wait a few extra minutes,” she sighed.

Revan gave Solona an affectionate pat on the shoulder and was off. As she walked her way through the apprentice’s study and up the stairs to the mage’s quarters she felt a small kernel of confidence begin to grow. She had made it through her Harrowing, something most of her tutors had doubted possible due to her flights of panic. She had worked hard day and night to learn the grounding techniques necessary to control her magic and her diligence had paid off. She could not wait to meet up with her mentor and celebrate.

Just as she was thinking of the woman, Wynne came around the corner. Revan barely had time to register her teacher’s appearance before Wynne swept her into a warm embrace. “I’m so proud of you today Revan!” the woman exclaimed. “I knew you were ready for your Harrowing. Your studies in healing have nearly surpassed most of the others in the circle.”

As Wynne stepped back to look her apprentice in the eyes Revan’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment from her teacher’s praise. “I only got this far because I studied under you Enchanter. Everyone knows you’re the best spirit healer in the hold.”

“Bah! You’re too modest child. Surely you can recognize your own talent! From the moment I received word about you coming to the circle I knew you would go far. Few children use healing magic at their first casting.”

Revan’s blush spread to her ears. Her mentor often praised her but she was shy to her core and her modesty made her all the more self-conscious.

Noticing her pupil’s discomfort, Wynne edged away from the topic, “Why don’t we go see the Senior Enchanter? I’m sure he will be pleased with your progress.”

Revan was instantly relieved and nodded her consent. The rest of the day flew by. Revan met with Irving, was given her new robes and staff, shown her new dormitory, and paid her respects to Knight Captain Greagoir. At the end of the day she was exhausted and slipped quietly into bed just before midnight.

She did not, however, sleep for long.

Shortly after her roommates fell asleep, Revan felt a gloved hand gently shake her shoulder. Her eyes sprang open and brought her face to face with someone most mages would not welcome into the room.

 

* * *

 

 

Cullen hadn’t slept well the night before. He’d tossed and turned thinking about Revan’s Harrowing for hours and only managed to sleep when the knights assigned to her came back from the chamber. He had overheard them talking about her success and used his relief to drive himself under.

When he woke for his shift in the early morning, he had to control the urge to visit her dormitory or ask anyone about the ceremony that had taken place. He knew that he and Revan were walking on thin ice and he did not wish to put her in any danger. They had barely escaped detection a few days before her Harrowing and had been communicating through hidden notes since.

Cullen remembered the first time he had met her as vividly as his present day. He was newly knighted, fresh to the circle, and filled with nervous energy. Greagoir had sent him on an assignment with one of the lieutenants to fetch a healer. One of the knights had injured himself in a training exercise and would need magical attention to speed recovery.

He and his commanding officer had knocked on Wynne’s study to find that the woman was out and had left an apprentice in her place for minor medical emergencies. He remembered trying to focus on his assignment while glancing at her heart shaped face. He couldn’t help but notice her bright, green eyes and the way that she treated his colleague’s injury with the utmost care. When the other knight thanked her for her assistance she smiled sweetly and stuttered out a timid “Thank you for your patience, serah” before rushing back to her studies.

He should have known then that he was head-over-heels in love, or, at least, that he would be soon.

He found himself gravitating towards her during his watch. He would escort her to the library late at night or to the herbal gardens on trips for potion ingredients. Every time they parted he would feel a small sense of loss. He would catch himself marveling at her jet black hair and the way that she would treat each person with kindness, no matter how they treated her.

On multiple occasions he had to restrain himself from glaring at a mage that would call her a knife-ear. He once punched a young recruit for making derogatory comments about elves, particularly about their women in bed. Greagoir had called him into his office and given him a week of cleaning duties as a reprimand. The young recruit was reported for his indecency and stripped of rank.

He had never expected her to return his affections. He was a Templar, she was a mage, and that was that. But she had surprised him one day, or rather, a friend of hers had. He remembered how Solona Amell had “stumbled” on a step and used him to break her fall. He felt her slip a square of parchment into his hand as she thanked him and remembered being overjoyed when he read its contents.

They had met two nights later at the top of the astronomy tower during his shift.

As the days passed they grew more in love, the only thing holding them back being their social positions. They had a system for communicating places to meet and had found comfort in each other on multiple occasions. Their first kiss had been under the stars on the same floor of the astronomy wing, and neither of them cared to look back.

Now, he hoped that her Harrowing had not left her too nervous. He knew she was prone to panic and had learned how to react to her attacks over time. She had once told him that her attacks had lessened since they started seeing each other but he feared that the demon would have shaken her.

He had been assigned to a shift near the mage’s quarters that night and resolved to check on her after everyone had gone to sleep. When he was sure he would not be detected, he crept into her room and gently touched her shoulder. Revan was a light sleeper and woke almost instantly. As her eyes focused on his a soft smile graced her lips.

She silently took his hand and followed him from the room to one of their favorite meeting spots. Their feet took them to a corner of the chantry that was just out of view of the entrance. Revan frequented the spot on nights when her mind would not let her rest and had been watched over by other Templars on multiple occasions. Both of them knew that being found here would be brushed off as a Templar watching over his charge in the middle of the night.

After checking to make sure that no one was near Cullen swept her into his arms, bending down to kiss her lightly on the lips. Her quiet laugh sent his heart soaring as she spoke, “I’m alright Cullen. I promise.”

She stepped back from him, placing her hand on his cheek as she went. He found himself getting lost in her eyes and could not stop himself from stroking her hair. “I knew you would pass. I was just worried that it might scare you.”

She stretched up as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him quietly. He felt himself leaning in to her embrace, deepening the kiss as his relief washed over him. They both broke away drawing a small sigh from Revan as they hurried to gather their control. He ached to take her somewhere more private and hold her but he knew that he would have to change shifts in a few hours and that she had had a long and tiring few days. He caressed her face, hoping it would be enough for the time being.

They stayed there in comfort, catching up on the last few days. Several minutes before his shift ended Cullen saw her back to bed, wishing her good night as she went.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revan tries to settle in after her Harrowing. Fate has other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how short this is and for the delay in posting. I would like to keep to a weekly update schedule but the holidays, my health, and my schoolwork have made that difficult. Comments and critiques are always appreciated.

Revan had expected her first day as an official mage to be more… structured. Instead, she’d leapt out of bed, ran directly to Irving’s office and gotten a blank stare and a “Just go about your studies, child.” She had no damn idea about what to do.

Up until this point her every moment was spent in lessons or doing chores about the tower. She had never gone about unattended by a harrowed mage and certainly had not had the freedom to go where she pleased during the day.

Her first move was to organize her new room. This new lodging was the first that she could truly call her own since moving to the tower and she had no idea how to start making it hers, this being said, she was damn well going to try. She organized her meager belongings into her wardrobe and desk, making sure that everything had its own distinct place. At this point all she had left was her research that she had been conducting before her Harrowing.

With nothing else to do, she reviewed her notes on the medicinal qualities of different herbs and roots. Revan had been deeply interested in medicine and poultices since she was a young girl. She could still vividly remember her mother showing her the proper way to mix elfroot and spindleweed to treat a cold and how to work medicinal herbs into food in a way that would taste delicious while still conferring their benefits.

In short, Revan really enjoyed medicinal botany. As she tired of her quarters she decided to take off for the circle gardens where most of the plants were grown and dried. On her way in she requested clearance for a pair of garden shears and gloves, intending to do some therapeutic work.

She soon lost track of time as she tended the beds, pulling weeds out by the root and gathering herbs that were ready for the picking. By the time noon had come and gone she had successfully cleared thirty square feet of the elfroot beds, leaving nothing but healthy stocks and growing leaves behind. The work had been repetitive but pleasant, leaving a satisfying ache in her back and fingers. She had only stopped when her stomach rumbled, signaling a need for lunch. It was also around this time that she heard the soft sound of a mage’s feet steadily approaching her.

The hem of a purple robe filled her vision just before she looked up to see Solona standing with her hands on her hips, a wry smile on her lips and in her eyes. “You live!” she shouted, throwing her arms wide as she dive bombed Revan with a hug. “I’ve missed you! How’s your new room? Did they give you a whole new wardrobe? Ooh, is that an ice rune on your staff?”

Revan burst into happy laughter as she answered her friend. “It’s nice. Kind of. And yes. I've only been gone from the apprentice's dormitory a day, Lona. It's not like I dropped off the face of Thedas.”

Solona giggled, "I suppose you're right. It just doesn't seem the same in the dormitory without you. They moved one of the younger apprentices to your bed last night and I swear it was too confusing for me. Did I mention that she snores, something awful? It's like sleeping next to a druffalo. Aside from that, who's going to deal with Jowan's moping now that you're gone? Every day he comes to me crying about how his studies are failing. He won't seem to leave me alone!"

"Maybe he's trying to get your attention," Revan teased. "He did always have eyes for you, you know."

"Ugh gross," Solona squealed, shaking her curly head as she went. "Jowan's just too weird. It would be like going on a date with the Knight Commander." Solona paused and bit her lip. Revan knew that look. It was the look that her friend used when she was about to talk about overly juicy gossip, or, in this case, when she was trying to get more details about Revan's personal life. Revan braced herself for whatever her friend had coming.

It took Solona a moment to continue but when she did she held no punches. “What about… you know… that guy.”

Revan immediately checked for guards. Anytime Solona brought up Cullen was a time for Revan to feel tense. Solona had a tendency to be loud and overly obvious, which would spell disaster for a pair of Templar and mage lovers. “Not here, Lona,” she whispered. You know it’s risky to talk about it in the open.

A blush rose to Solona’s cheeks as she stuttered out an apology, “I’m sorry Rev. But are things good?”

 

* * *

 

 

Wynne stood at the edge of the garden, bracing her old bones for opening the heavy, iron gate, when she overheard Revan and Solona Amell talking.

“We’re doing alright,” Revan mumbled. “It’s hard given the circumstances, but it could be worse.”

Wynne smiled to herself. She knew that Revan had had some sort of crush over the past few months and was happy to see her apprentice blooming romantically. Unfortunately she found Solona’s reply less satisfying.

“Of course it’s hard! Forbidden love always is! That’s what makes it romantic!”

Wynne froze. Forbidden was not a word that she took lightly. In all her years as an enchanter she had avoided circle politics and elevated position thanks to her own transgressions. She could remember what forbidden things felt like. Secret touches to make your heart soar were all too easily replaced by mourning. Forbidden. Not something she wanted her favorite apprentice to endure. Certainly not something she would see Revan punished for.

Stepping back from the gate, Wynne made a fuss with the handle in an attempt to alert the girls to her presence. They needn’t know that she had overheard that conversation. At least not yet. She had to think things through. Over all, she knew she would have to be cold to be kind.

 

* * *

 

 

Revan jumped at the sound of the gate creaking open, barely recovering in time to great Wynne, “Good afternoon, Enchanter. Have you come to tend the garden?”

“In part, yes,” Wynne replied. “But I also came to find you child. I hope your friend would not mind me borrowing you for tea in my office?”

Solona, having always respected the relationship between Wynne and Revan and being completely oblivious to the loaded nature of the request, quickly acquiesced. Allowing the pair to leave and pace the tower.

Revan felt that something was off. Wynne remained silent during the walk from the garden to her apartments, deep in thought. The enchanter seemed to be mulling over an important matter and Revan could not leave behind a deeply seeded worry about the conversation she had had with Solona. If Wynne had walked in a moment sooner she would have certainly overheard their conversation. Beyond the odd timing, Revan was used to discussing healing theory with Wynne whenever they walked. Her mentor’s silence only sent off alarm bells which became louder with every wordless step.

Unable to bear the tension welling within, Revan spoke, “Enchanter, is there something you would like to discuss? You seem worried about something.”

Wynne’s eyes snapped to her freshly harrowed apprentice. “I’m afraid there is child. Unfortunately, I would prefer we discuss this when we reach our destination.”

Revan couldn’t help but flinch. She was sure that Wynne wanted to talk about her conversation with Solona and the fear threatened to send her into a panic. Wynne would never report her to the Templars over a snippet of gossip, _would_ she?

Revan fought down her anxiety until she was safely tucked away from Templar hearing. Wynne’s office was one of several rooms reserved for Senior Enchanters. It contained dozens of tomes on spirit healing and herbal remedies tucked into shelves lining the entrance wall. Wynne kept a small table with distilling instruments in a far corner and a writing desk lined with high-backed chairs that were optimized for long periods of study. In the other rear corner of her office was a door that supposedly lead to her sleeping quarters. Revan knew the office almost as well as her mentor did. She had come here many times for comfort and guidance. Neither of these things seemed close as Revan took a seat in front of the desk.

Just as Revan was about to speak Wynne broke the silence. “I overheard some of your conversation with Miss Amell earlier.”

Those words were like a fist to Revan’s gut. She could feel panic settling in and clamped her hands down on the arms of her chair, trying to fight the bile rising in her throat. “I can explain…” she started, but was interrupted by Wynne.

“Child, I understand. I do not blame you for seeking companionship but I do not believe that you have thought out all of the consequences of your clandestine affair.” Wynne’s eyes drilled into Revan. Her mentor did not seem disappointed in her as much as she seemed worried for her safety.

Taking a chance, Revan tried to reason with her mentor. “Enchanter, I understand that this is serious, but –“

“Do you child? Are you truly willing to risk not only your removal from the circle tower but your friend’s removal of whatever rank they have achieved? Are you willing to risk tranquility should the Knight Commander find your transgression serious enough to warrant the rite? Is your lover? Do they understand the current situation? Or are you stuck imagining a future that you cannot possibly have?”

Wynne had remained painfully even-toned during her tirade. The coldness of her mentor dug deep into Revan’s heart. She had never thought about the future with Cullen. Only that she loved him. What if Wynne was right? Would Cullen lose his place in the order? Revan’s mind wandered over the possibilities of a future with Cullen. Even if they could remain a secret they would never be able to freely give affection. Never be able to have what they truly wanted. Tears started welling in her eyes as reality set in. Nothing good would come of this. Revan knew it in her bones. Maybe she had known it from the start. Maybe Wynne was right in calling her out. Either way, Revan felt lost. Old habits set in as she resolved to ask the Senior Enchanter for advice.

Looking up at Wynne, Revan choked out the only thing she could ask, “What would you have me do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna lie. I want this fic to be overly tragic. I'm not a fluff kind of person (outside of one shots) and I want to explore the effects of trauma on Cullen and other major characters. I myself have PTSD so I want to give good representation to it and other mental health concerns. In case you were wondering, Revan's mom was a healer and her dad was a farm hand. She doesn't have strong memories of her father but her mother remains a constant in her mind. I'm going to have Solona be the warden (at least in passing). We'll see which ship I go with.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fast forward then years and Revan is preparing for the Divine's conclave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be drama.  
> Yvander is pronounced ya-vander. He's going to be the inquisitor for this story line.

It had been nearly a decade since Revan had left Ferelden and only a few years since the circles had dissolved. Setting foot in her homeland should have had a more profound effect than it did. Most people would feel at least some sort of joy at coming home, but Revan had seen and survived too much to hold any idealistic notions of patriotism. She had barely escaped Ostwick during its rebellion and only then because she had friends on the outside. She was, quite honestly, deeply indebted to Yvander for more than her continued heartbeat.

The man in question sat near their campfire, stirring whatever passed as the night’s meal in a hanging pot. “We’re almost to Haven, Revan,” he said. “You know that I must be at the conclave but I won’t press you to join me. I wouldn’t want to be around that many Templars if I was a mage either.”

Revan pondered the situation. She had responsibilities that did not matter to this conclave. The Divine had called it as a last ditch effort for peace but Revan knew that it was likely to end in stalemate. Her own worries were closer to her heart.

She glanced over at her son’s sleeping form as he came to mind. He was far too young to be near a place of such contention. A boy of nine, he had her large, elven eyes, his hair was just as dark as hers but curled at its short ends. His ears betrayed his mixed heritage, one of the few reminders of his father. Thomas was her world.

She had fought to keep him near after his birth at Ostwick, only succeeding when Yvander took him in as his ward. Her friend had never asked about the father of her child or her past in the Ferelden circle. The only thing that mattered to Yvander was the fact that Revan had healed his younger sister when all hope was lost. Their friendship had grown out of the mutual respect for each other’s actions. Yvander had raised Thomas well, given him an extensive education, and had continuously updated her on his growth. Revan was sure that she would have succumbed to grief without his friendship and support; she had lost too much in her recent history to lose all hope of a future with her son.

Refocusing on the matter at hand, Revan replied, “I will stay in Haven while you go to the temple. Thomas could use a roof over his head and I’m sure that the people will be in need of a healer. We’ll have to see were negotiations go from there.”

Yvander nodded his agreement. His family had charged him with representing the Trevelyan name at the conclave. He was neither mage nor Templar, but the Divine had called for the faithful and he was bound to answer.

His sister had been taken to the circle at a young age. He had nearly joined the order then, but was stopped when his parents pleaded with him to stay. They had lost one child to the circle, they were not prepared to lose another. He had heeded their wishes, grinding his teeth when Evelyn would write about the isolation, holding her close when she came home for Holiday, and fretting over her endlessly when her poor health would worsen.

It was during one of these episodes that the worst had occurred. None of the healers at Ostwick could help her fever or her cough. She had coughed so deeply that blood had come from her lungs. He had nearly given up hope when a new healer arrived at the circle. In a last ditch effort to save Evelyn his parents requested Revan Surrana’s presence. They didn’t care that she was an elf, or that she was a barely harrowed mage, they just cared that she could, if nothing else, lessen Evie’s suffering. The events upon her arrival had blown them away.

Revan took one look at Evelyn Trevelyan, pale and feverish as she was, rolled up her sleeves and started demanding medical supplies. She combined herbs, spells, and sheer force of will to save Evelyn’s life. When that was done, she prescribed treatments for her weak constitution that had kept Evelyn healthy in the time since. Yvander had taken her appearance as a sign from Andraste herself and, from that moment on, held a deep respect and sort of empathy for mages.

Here they were, treated like rabid beasts at worst and like coiled snakes at best. But mages like Revan cared for life. She was just like any other person, but was forced to endure something he would never fully understand, something that was imposed upon her very existence. He did not believe that magic was cursed, or that mages themselves were cursed (or blessed in their suffering). He believed that they had a great gift that doubled as a burden, a gift that was worthy of respect and awe, just like any skilled swordsman, archer, or apothecary. He could see the maker in their existence.

Revan and Evie held special places in his heart. One as a sister, the other as a comrade in arms. Revan protected Evie where he could not, comforted her where he could not, and guided her where he could not.

 It came as no surprise to him when he accepted her unborn child as his ward. People had scoffed after Thomas arrived. Rumors had swirled around Yvander and Revan, many alluding that Thomas was his bastard. None were true, of course. But he took care to make them useful for his young ward. No one would dare touch the boy. Even if a person wished him harm he was the adopted son of a Trevelyan, the most powerful family in the Free Marches. The servants treated him with fondness, despite the boy’s mixed heritage, sneaking him sugary snacks when they thought Yvander wasn’t looking and playing along with the boy’s childhood games around the manor. The boy’s tutors purported his excellence in early years, showering him just as much attention as they did Yvander a decade before. Thomas excelled in rhetoric and mathematics, outshining many other children within Ostwick’s elite families. The boy was by all means but blood his son and Yvander cherished him.

When the circle fell, he knew that he would keep both Revan and Evie safe. He left Thomas at his family’s estate, promising to return after some business at the Circle. When he arrived he was greeted with nothing but bloodshed. He had killed dozens of Templars to get to them, arriving just in time to sneak the women and several of their tranquil companions out of the circle compound. Within two days the compound burned to the ground, within four Revan was reunited with her son. They had all sought shelter at the Trevelyan estate and for two years they avoided the violence of the rebellion. Now they were almost at Haven, gearing up for the conclave which was only a few days away.

Yvander could only hope that Andraste would bring all of them peace.

 

* * *

 

 

Revan muttered a curse under her breath as she tended more of the wounded pouring in from the explosion that morning. Yvander was nowhere to be seen, demons were starting to pour out of the sky, she was covered from finger to elbow in blood, and her son was in the chantry hopefully being shielded from the carnage. What had she been thinking bringing him with her? _You know the answer to that_ , she told herself, _two years wasn’t enough for you so you just **had** to bring him along. What could **possibly** have gone wrong at a peace talk?_ Her inner voice had a sarcastic bite to it. It was something that she had learned to take on quickly in the Ostwick circle, sarcasm, and she was loathe to give it up now.

Her shift finally came to a close and she washed off the blood and grime and turned to the chantry to collect her son. She padded almost silently through the corridors, which was something she had also picked up in Ostwick. _Be quiet so the Templars don’t catch you little elf_. It was an easy mantra. Go unseen and avoid trouble. It had served her well and unnerved many people to boot.

Just as she was about to collect Thomas she heard the doors bang open. Stopping in a shadowed alcove, she turned roughly to find a group of soldiers hauling in Yvander. It was clear to her that he was unconscious but breathing, what worried her more was the green aura forcing its way out of his hand. Her heart reached out to her friend and she rushed forward to see him.

She barely had time to look at him before three figures, more official than the soldiers, marched in. There was a taciturn warrior woman and a cloaked woman who seemed to be in congress with each other. Her eyes roamed their features, memorizing their faces and postures before moving on to the third. What she saw left her stunned.

The first thought that came to mind was _Shit._ Which was followed immediately by an inkling of panic. Cullen Rutherford. He had aged, just as she had. You could see it in his eyes even more than you could in his appearance. She struggled to find control. _No matter who he was, who he is, you have a more pressing concern._ Cullen, fortunately, seemed engrossed in a report he was holding, allowing her time to recover. Forcing her fear down, she ran forward and addressed the group directly.

“This man needs healing, serahs. Will you let me examine him?” The glow was already at her fingertips when the angry woman butted in.

“Unfortunately this prisoner is being transported to our dungeons miss…?”

“Enchanter. Enchanter Revan Suranna of the Ostwick Circle.” Cullen’s head snapped up towards the sound of her voice. She pretended not to notice as she drilled on. “No matter the nature of this man’s arrest, my lady, I can assure you that he is of good character and is most certainly in need of healing. Whether or not you wish to chain him in your dungeon, he will need aid if you wish for him to survive through the night.”

It was the red head’s turn to chime in, “Cassandra, I know of this woman. Let her examine him once he is secured.”

Revan eyed the red-head. She had no idea what connection she could have had with this woman but she would settle for information at a later time. She nodded to the cloaked figure and followed the soldiers down to the cells. Once they had Yvander chained, Revan moved in with practiced delicacy. She checked his vitals and ran a sweep over his major organs before turning to focus on his palm, summoning her magic to her fingertips.

Before she could do much, however, the green light flared, leaving a burn on her fingers. _This is like witch fire_ she thought _spirit healing is too dangerous around this mark._ She resolved to apply salves to Yvander’s cracking skin to help with dryness or any bleeding. Knowing that her skills were inadequate outside of this particular use, she turned to the three that had followed her in.

“Spirit healing is far too dangerous to use for his hand. It’s killing him but I cannot control its spread. The best option would be to find someone who specializes in spirit and entropic magic. I can heal his cuts and bruises but that won’t keep him alive.”

The women shared glances with each other and crept off to consult in the corner. Cullen, however, stayed, gazing intently at Revan. _This is getting awkward,_ she thought. _Whatever he wants, I cannot give it to him now. I gave him up years ago._

Revan rose and tried to brush past Cullen, making it nearly to the cell door before he spoke, “Revan, I – I would like to speak with you if you have time.” The women in the corner whipped their heads around, locking their sights on the two.

Revan took a deep breath before answering, “If we survive the demons pouring out from Maker knows where, I’ll make sure to write.”

 

* * *

 

 

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck as Revan marched out. Her words had stung and he had too many questions about her sudden reappearance. _Where had she been? Why did she leave? Was she well? Does she know about the circle? About what happened in Kirkwall? Is that why she’s so cold? Or is there something else going on entirely?_ The questions ran in circles, leaving him somewhat dazed and confused, not something the Commander of the Inquisition should be doing when there was a fight on. He took a deep breath to calm himself just before Cassandra pounced. “So Commander,” she said, “I assume you’ve made the acquaintance of this Enchanter.”

He answered with a glare as he was saved by Lilliana, “Enchanter Surrana was a close friend of the Hero of Ferelden before the blight,” she said. “It is probable that the Commander knew her from the circle tower before his transfer to Kirkwall.”

Cullen was, for once, thankful that the spymaster knew about the events during that hell. He did not think that he could summon the patience to answer Cassandra and he did not want to think about what used to be or what could have been.

“I see. I will stay with the prisoner. In the meantime I believe it is your turn to lead at the front, Commander.”

Cullen would have sighed with relief if he was not otherwise occupied, “I… yes Cassandra. I will move to the forward camp after resupplying.” He paced out of the room before the conversation could go further.

At the top of the stairs he caught sight of Revan again. He had decided to give her whatever distance she needed but what he saw stopped him in his tracks.

She was walking hand in hand with a young boy, her spitting image. “Mamae,” he cried in a Freemarcher accent, “is Yvander coming back soon?”

“I should hope so, love,” she said, warmth filling her eyes and smile. “Why don’t we get some dinner in the meantime?” He tried to comprehend the situation. _She has a son?_ he wondered. _When did that happen?_ They walked past him and out of the chantry, leaving him with even more questions than before. Cullen shook his head and went about his preparations for the front.

 

* * *

 

 

Revan washed the dishes left from the meal she had shared with Thomas. The boy was fast asleep in the bed they shared, his eyelashes fluttering as he dreamed. She would have treasured the moment if she could, but other things were on her mind.

Yvander would need more than her skills alone to survive whatever the magic was that ailed him. She had received word from a runner earlier, asking her to return later that night. Sister Nightingale, or Lilliana as she preferred to be called, had requested her presence that night. She kissed Thomas’ head and tucked the covers around his sleeping form before venturing out into the night.

The mountain chill made her shiver as she closed the door to her shack behind her. She had enchanted the structure to stay warm even in extreme weather. She may have unwittingly brought her son into a warzone but she would die herself before seeing him come down with pneumonia. She tightened her shawl around her shoulders as she walked, stopping just before the sister’s tents as her breath puffed against the night air.

Lilliana, who had noticed her approach, stood ready to welcome her. “Hello Enchanter,” she began, “I believe we have much to discuss. Would you care to join me for prayer services?”

Revan tensed ever so slightly before relaxing her shoulders. She had expected as much from this woman. From the moment they met Revan could tell that Lilliana had the eyes of a hawk and the wits of a raven. She expected some form of confrontation and answered as neutrally as she could, “If you would have me sister, I would much appreciate knowing how you’ve heard of me.” The sister looked into her eyes and she returned the woman’s gaze with equal intensity. _Your turn Nightingale. I’m watching._

The two women walked to the chantry in silence, dodging into an office at the far end of the chapel. The room itself was scarce with few visual embellishments. What it did have, however, was a fireplace and several chairs for the women to sit in. A small flame flickered in the stone recess, casting odd shadows across the floor while giving a warm glow to the chilly room.

Both of them took their seats before Lilliana began. Her voice was neutral, but Revan knew she was being tested. “To answer the question of our acquaintance, Enchanter, I had the privilege of traveling with our mutual friend, Solona Amell, during her time as a warden.”

Revan thought back to the friend she had left behind, regret and guilt welling in her chest. “I see,” she sighed, her eyes saddening. “Solona died too young. I wish I could have stood with her during that time. I… thank you for the clarification Sister Lilliana.”

Lilliana herself seemed saddened by her confession. _Lona must have weighed heavily on your shoulders as much as she did mine._ “She told me of you, you know,” Lilliana said, nearly whispering. “She said you were a good friend before you transferred to the Ostwick Circle; that you had to leave due to some particular hardship. She did not mention that you had a son, however.”

Revan bristled, she did not like where this conversation was going, especially in its proximity to Thomas. He was all she had and her fear of this woman harming him was stonger than her respect for her friend’s memory. Bracing herself as well as she could, she summoned the wherewithal to protect her son. “He was born after my transfer to the Ostwick Circle. There was no way for Solona to know of his existence as she died beforehand.”

“I see,” Nightingale said, pausing to reassess the situation as she went. “Was the boy’s father an acquaintance in the Free Marches?”

Revan caught the sister’s jousting, she knew that the woman was fishing for information and she knew that the only way to stop the inquiry was to be as forward with her rejection of the idea as possible, “My son’s parentage is none of your concern. Nor anyone else’s in this camp. He does not even know his father’s name. I would like to keep things as they are for him.” Lilliana blinked, and seemed to relax. Something about that disturbed Revan, _What does she know that I don’t?_ she thought.

The sister continued with her pseudo-interrogation. “I apologize, Enchanter. I did not mean to intrude upon the privacy of your family matters. There are rumors, however, that the boy is of the Trevelyan line and I wished to know if there was any truth to the claim.”

_Thank the Maker,_ Revan thought as she sighed in relief, if it was his lineage she was worried about Revan could easily redirect the sister’s inquiry. “Yvander is not the boy’s father if that is what you are asking. Lord Trevelyan took my son in after his birth to repay a debt he assumed to owe me. My son has no links to any noble line, of that I can assure you.”

Lilliana relaxed a fraction of an inch further. “Ah, thank you Enchanter. On that note there is one last thing I would like to discuss. You are aware that Yvander Trevelyan is under suspicion for the explosion at the conclave and the murder of the Divine are you not?”

Revan nearly groaned, _It’s one thing after another with this woman isn’t it?_ “I am. Though I assure you that that is, in fact, impossible. Yvander came to the conclave seeking peace under the Trevelyan name. He is as devout as any Reverend Mother could claim to be and has no interest in furthering this conflict or betraying his family interest.”

Lilliana fired back with one last question. “I believe you Enchanter, but others do not. Is it at all possible that Lord Trevelyan could have concealed his true intentions?”

Revan was incredulous, “Do you think I would entrust my son to any person of dubious character? No Sister, I assure you he is innocent.”

“I – thank you Enchanter. That is all,” Lilliana said, a hint of melancholy touching her eyes and lips.

Revan stood from her chair walking towards the door that would take her back to her son. Before she could step through, however, she paused. Looking back towards the young woman who knew her friend, she made a small decision and spoke, “Sister Lilliana, please call me by name. We owe that much to Solona, don’t you think?” She left before the sister could reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yvander is extremely gay and I love him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a transition chapter for me as I want to work my way up to plot during and post Haven a little quickly.

Revan thanked the Maker for Yvander’s success in calming the breach as she tended to her friend’s unconscious form. She and Apothecary Adan had been working in shifts to tend to his needs, wiping sweat from his brow and spoon feeding him restorative potions took up most of her professional time. Her dedication to her charge served another purpose in keeping her away from Cullen. She had avoided him since their encounter in the dungeon and dreaded the idea of having a conversation after she had been so utterly callous. She had spent her free time caring for Thomas and chatting with Lilliana instead.

The Inquisition’s spymaster had quite the history to tell and the women had bonded deeply over their mutual affection for Solona. Revan suspected that Lilliana had known her as more than a friend in their time together and was happy to have a link to her lost companion. These activities aside, Revan had little going on in her life.

On the third day that Yvander lay sleeping Adan offered to watch him for the entire day so Revan could spend time with Thomas. She and her son spent a large portion of their day working on an immense snowman just outside the smithy when Thomas got a pensive look on his face.

“Mamae,” Thomas began in his soft voice, “can I ask something?”

Revan was used to her son being an inquisitive child so she smiled and nodded him on. “What is it, love?”

Thomas, however, seemed more nervous than usual. Normally he would pounce upon a chance to ask anything, whether it be about horses or magic, but today he seemed more self-conscious. He hesitated before he spoke, “I was playing with the other children in the chantry and they talked about their babaes. Where’s my babae? Did he leave?”

Revan froze in place. She had thought of a million ways to answer this question when it came, imagined thousands of possibilities to protect her son from whatever came his way in its wake, but she still could not find a proper answer to his question. _How do I tell him that I was the one that ran away?_ she had thought over and over again. The guilt of it, of abandoning the boy’s father, had weighed on her heavily every day since she left. She had kept tabs on the man, relying on Yvander’s network for information. Not everything she heard was pleasant, very little of it was, in fact. But a part of her felt that she was at fault for his transgressions.

This guilt coupled with her separation from Thomas had built up for eight years, leaving her more guarded and angry than she had been as a younger woman. _I left him and told him nothing,_ she thought. _How do I tell Thomas about what happened after? How do I reconcile the young man I fell in love with with the Knight Captain of Kirkwall._

Unable to find a suitable explanation, she answered as truthfully as she could. “Come here, love,” she said, motioning Thomas closer. She ran her fingers through his curly hair as she prepared herself. Bending down to look Thomas directly in the eyes, she explained the situation. “You’re babae was a good man Thomas. He would not have left you if he had known about you, I swear it.” It was not a lie. Not truly. Cullen had been a good man when they were together. The events at the Ferelden circle must have changed him. _What could have happened to him there to make him so cruel?_ she had thought when she received news of Kirkwall after the blight. _Why did he have to change?_

“But why did he leave, mamae?” Thomas asked, pulling Revan out of her reverie. It was then that she partially admitted her fault in it all.

Revan tugged her son to her chest, whispering as she held him close, “He didn’t leave you, Thomas. Mamae had to go far away from your babae, so far that I couldn’t tell him about you. I’m so sorry, love.” By the end of her explanation Revan was struggling to hold back tears. She had lied to her son twice that day, only a stone’s throw away from the man the boy sought. She was not sure if she could hold herself together much longer if things continued as they were.

“Don’t cry, Mamae,” Thomas said, holding her tighter. “I’m here. I don’t need a babae as long as I have you!” Her son’s love dried her tears and allowed her to put her guilt aside for just a moment.

She chuckled deeply as she drew back, placing her hands on Thomas’ small shoulders. “My you are my strong little boy, aren’t you Love? Shall we finish our snowman?”

 

* * *

 

 

Thomas branched out to explore Haven as the day went on, promising Revan that he would be back in their cottage before dark. In his absence Revan tidied the small hut, doing her best to make it a home for herself and her son.

At around noon she was interrupted by a knock on her door. She opened it, inviting in the chilly air, to find Solas standing barefoot in the snow. “Solas, what a surprise. Is there something I can help you with?” she asked, stiffening her back. While the other elf had effectively saved Yvander’s life, he still gave her a feeling of unease. This man, this apostate, had shown up out of the blue with the knowledge to assess rifts and the mark on her friend’s hand. Something that no circle mage in Haven had been capable of. Call her cautious, but something in his demeanor put Revan on edge.

Perhaps that something was his aloofness in addressing her. “Good day, Enchanter. I came to check on the Herald’s wellbeing. Adan seems to believe my presence unnecessary by his side so I thought – “

“That I would kiss and tell about my patient?” she barked out incredulously. “Surely serah, you jest. Any healer worth a grain of salt keeps her patient’s condition private. Especially around outsiders. _Master_ Adan is only upholding his professional dignity, something I’m sure any mage of worth would understand.” Revan had no sympathy for this outsider in particular and got a small amount of satisfaction from the way his ears twitched in response to her verbal assault.

“I see,” he sneered. “Then perhaps you would be so kind as to report his condition to the war council? I’m sure the commander would love to hear your opinion on the matter.”

_Touché,_ she thought. _This one’s perceptive beyond what he has a right to._ Not willing to lose the game, Revan donned a smile as she stared daggers at the other elf, “Perhaps I’ll go to the commander directly then, Solas. Would you be so kind as to fetch him for me? Or shall I go myself?”

The other elf gnashed his teeth, seeing that Revan had won this particular sparring match. “I shall leave you to it then, Enchanter. Whatever you believe you have achieved with this petty secrecy, I hope you find it worth your while.” He turned away and marched off in a huff, leaving Revan to stifle a chuckle at his leaving.

She nearly lost control before noticing the person Solas passed on his way out. Cullen’s presence sobered her as quickly as a bucket of ice water being dumped on her head. He paused before her, looking deeply into her eyes. “Revan,” he said, “Can we talk?” Something in his eyes made Revan suspect that her secrecy was coming to an end.

 

* * *

 

 

Cullen had been looking for a good time to approach Revan. He had attempted to find a moment where she was not weighed down by her duties as Haven’s healer or as a mother, preferring to have a private conversation with his former lover. Over the course of the week, he became increasingly sure that she was avoiding him. Every time he had tried to approach she was suddenly busy switching a bandage or running off to see her son. _No,_ he thought _, that’s not fair. She’s his **mother**. Knowing her she just wants to spend time with her boy._ He tried to ignore the little voice that asked _“But you never really knew her all that well, did you?”_

He knew that Uldred’s uprising had left him scarred, and he was by no means proud of who he had become in the years since. But he still could not leave behind a growing suspicion about Revan’s son. He thought back to the last night they had spent together. She had come to him upset about something she would not talk about. He had tried to think of a way to console her when she had reached up and kissed him.

One thing had led to another and they had found themselves a forgotten room in the tower. He had lost his reason holding her close, trying to convey comfort with every touch. She had clung to him so desperately he had been sure something horrible was on the horizon. As he lay with her after they were spent, he had stroked her hair and tried to comfort her further. When she left his side that night he had felt that it was the last time he would hold her in his arms.

To see her alive and well outside of his nightmares had been a healing experience. He had been overwhelmed with her, unable to think straight while she was there. When he saw her with Thomas, the pieces had started to fall into place.

When he saw the boy exploring the smithy alone, he realized that now was his best chance to capture Revan’s attention. He walked past the tavern towards her cottage by the apothecary, passing a moody Solas on his way. He was stopped by a runner before making to the stairs and hoped he had not missed his chance. Revan noticed him before he reached the top of the platform, withdrawing emotionally as approached. He could have sworn that she had a deep sadness in her eyes just before she spoke.

“Commander Rutherford,” she said distantly, “Is there something I can do for you?”

He paused, suddenly afraid to have the conversation he had wanted, “May I speak with you privately Revan?” he managed to say. “There is something I would like to discuss.” She motioned him inside with a nod, her silence making his fear grow.

That insecurity made old wounds all the more apparent. He swallowed his pride before opening his mouth, “I hope you’ve been well these past few weeks,” he said.

“Well enough given the circumstances,” she replied, allowing an awkward silence to fill the room.

He rushed to continue the conversation, trying to put her, or maybe himself, at ease. “Your son seems quite the intelligent child. I just saw him at the smithy asking Master Harritt about the equipment.” It was the wrong way to start. He could see her bristle at his mentioning of the boy and she suddenly reminded him of a mother bear protecting her cub.

Her shoulders stiffened as she pushed forward, ice creeping in to her tone, “Why have you come here Cullen?”

Cullen paused, unsure how to continue. Unable to think of a tactful way to ask he settled on being straightforward, “It’s about Thomas, Revan. How old is he?”

Revan withdrew even more into herself, something Cullen would have thought impossible based on her behavior moments ago. “What does it matter?” she hissed. She was definitely on the defensive now and he could swear he saw her eyes begin to water as she turned away. If anything it made Cullen more certain about the outcome of the conversation.

“Revan, I… before you left, we…” Maker, he could feel his face flush as he tried to finish his sentence. “We spent the night together before you left the circle. Could he be… Is he my son?”

Revan was facing completely away from him now. He saw her shoulders begin to quiver and was unsure if she was angry or otherwise upset. He did not have to wait long, however, before she began to choke out a reply.

“He is,” she nearly whispered, bringing her hands to her eyes. “Maker forgive me, but he is.” Before Cullen could say a word, she bolted from the cottage out into the snow.

 

* * *

 

 

Revan ran through Haven, through the training grounds at its outskirts, through the woods, and into the frozen field beyond. Her feet carried her to the dock where she fell to her knees and began to sob. Her tears fell like twin waterfalls, freezing on her lashes and her cheeks as they went. She was so caught up in her sorrow that she almost missed the crunch of snow under armored feet.

He had followed her out to the edges of the settlement, seeking what she did not know. To her surprise, he knelt down next to her on the dock and placed his pauldrons over her shoulders. “You’ll catch cold if you stay here like this,” he said gently.

She sniffled loudly as she looked to him, confusion sweeping over her. His features were calm and caring, reminiscent of their days together when they were young. “You’re not angry?” she asked, incredulous.

Cullen let out a bitter laugh, “No. I’m worried. The last time you ran from me I lost you. We may not be who we were then but I still care for you. I… I don’t wish to see you hurt.” His ears were starting to turn red by the end of his speech and Revan could feel hers do the same.

“Cullen, I’m sorry. For leaving you like that, I mean. I…”

Before she could finish he reached out to her, sweeping her into his arms and holding her close. “I’m glad you did,” he said. “If you had been there when Uldred took over I… I would not be here today.”

She curled into his armor, uncomfortable as its hard surface was, and gripped the edges of his breastplate. They stayed like that for a few moments, holding each other close after too long a separation.

Cullen was the first to break the silence, “Revan, if you would let me I would like to be a part of his life. I want to be close to him, to you, without the circle in the way.”

She looked up into his eyes as he asked what he had been waiting to since they were reunited in the chantry that day, “Can we start again?”

 

* * *

 

 

Weeks had passed since Cullen had ran after Revan in the snow. The Herald had woken up and was preparing for a trip to the Hinterlands after spending time recuperating from the initial pass at the breach. Cullen now stood at the war table with Josephine and Lilliana waiting for him to arrive when the group overheard Cassandra speaking, or arguing rather, with Yvander as they approached the room.

“I simply do not believe her presence on the road would be completely necessary. She may be a skilled healer but she is certainly not as skilled in combat as Solas. I honestly believe that…” the door opened with a bang as Yvander stepped in, a scowl on his face.

“With all due respect Cassandra,” he growled over his shoulder, “I trust Revan far more than I trust any of the people here. I will leave the decision up to her.”

Cullen groaned as he recalled a conversation with Revan a few days past.

She had come to his office distraught and talked to him about the very situation it seemed that Yvander and Cassandra were arguing about. She had been concerned about leaving Thomas in Haven and wanted to make arrangements with Cullen for his care.

Josephine cleared her throat from the table-side drawing everyone’s attention. “Perhaps the Herald would like to share his thoughts on the Hinterlands?”

Yvander took a deep breath from his position and began to speak, “I want to take Cassandra, Varric, and Revan with me on the road. I understand that there may be problems with bringing her but there is no one I trust more with the healing and care of their patients.”

It was Lilliana’s turn to voice her opinion, “While I agree that a healer on your trip would be beneficial, is there any particular reason that Solas should stay? He does have immense knowledge of the rifts and the mark.”

Cullen watched as the four others debated the traveling arrangements, content to stand back and allow them to sort this particular knot out, when Yvander turned directly to him. “You’ve been quiet during our deliberations Commander. What is your opinion on the matter?”

Cullen fought to hold back a sigh as he joined the fray, “I believe that having a healer along on any expedition is important but I do not see why both Revan and Solas could not go along together. The Hinterlands are in an uproar with mages and Templars going rampant on either side. Security in numbers seems a much better tactic than relying on the talents of one mage instead of two.”

The entire room was silent and all eyes were on Cullen as he came to a close. Cassandra and Lilliana in particular seemed shocked by his recommendation. Sighing, Cullen addressed them both, “Is there something either of you would like to say?”

Cassandra was the first to speak, allowing Lilliana to remain apart from the conversation. “Not at all Commander. I simply did not expect such a… solution to our current predicament.”

Cullen sighed again as he messaged his temples. _You mean you did not expect me to come up with this solution,_ he thought. Blessedly, the affairs at the table continued and reached a conclusion shortly after.

As Cullen left he penned orders for his soldiers to secure the King’s Highway and provide safe passage for the Herald and his companions, only stopping when a young voice shouted, “Babae!” from behind.

As Thomas threw his arms around Cullen’s leg the man reached down to tousle the boy’s hair, laughing at his son’s enthusiasm. Revan had sat down with Thomas shortly after their talk on the dock and explained the situation to him. Much to her relief and Cullen’s, the boy had been beyond enthusiastic to meet his father, if not a tad shy. Over the course of the last few weeks Thomas and Cullen had warmed up to each other. Cullen had procured a child sized practice sword for the boy and gifted it to the child several days before, resulting in his newfound son’s ecstatic attempt to play knights and dragons with his friends.

“Babae,” he said, peering up at Cullen with excited interest, “are you coming to dinner tonight? Mamae is making soup!”

Cullen’s smile deepened as the boy invited him over. Knowing Revan, she had sent Thomas to fetch him after the meeting at the war table. The boy was always a boost to Cullen’s day. He was vibrant and full of curiosity ranging from the mundane to the magical and Cullen thanked the Maker for each moment with him. _To think I had no clue you existed mere months ago,_ he thought as he walked with the boy towards Revan’s cottage.

The inner circle had taken the news well, if after a bit of shock. Cassandra had nearly swooned when she found out that Revan and Cullen had been involved and had almost reminded Cullen of romance obsessed women like his younger sister. Josephine had gone into a flurry of excitement talking about the love story that must be deep behind the curtain and dragging Revan over for a detailed explanation of their history as Lilliana smiled faintly in the corner. Varric and Solas had more subdued reactions. Solas, on the one hand, had simply shook his head and walked away, talking about interracial politics as he went. Varric had just smiled when Thomas broke the news, patting the young boy on the shoulder as he spun the story and encouraging the boy’s enthusiasm.

Yvander’s reaction had been slightly colder. He had pulled Cullen to the side shortly thereafter to talk by the frozen lake, agitation plain on his features. “Commander, as I am sure you know I am well aware of your actions in Kirkwall over the past few years,” he had said as he tightened his grip on one of his daggers. “Revan may have told you, but I kept her informed of the goings on at the time. If you dare show her any of the harshness that you brought to the Gallows, I will make sure to personally introduce you to Andraste, title or no.”

Cullen had let the moment pass. He knew that his actions in Kirkwall were heinous beyond measure. He had personally endangered hundreds of lives while he watched Meredith bring the hammer down and had no pity for himself or for his actions. “I understand, Herald,” he had replied, “I hope to prove myself worthy of her and of my son.”

Cullen snapped back to the present as he entered Revan’s home. He had quite a few things to atone for.


End file.
